


Waiting For the Snow To Fall

by pandorabox82



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advent Calendar 2017, Gen, day 22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 21:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorabox82/pseuds/pandorabox82
Summary: Petunia gets a reminder that sometimes the world we leave behind never really leaves us.





	Waiting For the Snow To Fall

Petunia sighed deeply as she pushed her hair out of her face. Dudley had insisted that his daughter needed to have this specific Ikea desk for her room at their house, since it had to match the one she had at home. And since she would do anything for her only granddaughter, she had agreed to put together this hard to assemble present for her. After all, Serena was about to turn eleven, which meant that there was no chance of her being chosen by…well, it didn't even deserve a thought, she decided as she shook her head and went back to trying to assemble the desk.

A sharp knock on her front door caught her attention, and she let out a frustrated breath as she pushed herself to her feet and padded over to the door. It was a weekday, and Vernon was still at Grunnings, which made her a little wary of who it could be, since she hadn't been expecting visitors. Peeking out the window next to the door, she frowned to see an older woman there, and she looked very familiar to Petunia, though she couldn't put her finger on why. Slowly, she opened the door, and their eyes met, and then everything became clear to Petunia. She knew exactly who this woman was, and why she was stopping by her home.

"You can't have her," she hissed as the woman slipped into her home, closing the door behind her with a resolute bang.

"Petunia, I didn't come here to tell you that Serena is a witch. Neither of Dudley's children are in the book."

"Figures, your kind never did want me," she muttered bitterly as she watched Minerva McGonagall sail deeper into the home, as if she had a right to be there. Still, Petunia didn't want to tell her no, because she had been very kind to her at one point in her life, and that had mattered. "Do you want anything? Tea, hot chocolate?"

"I can make that quicker than you can," her thin Scottish voice called out from the living room, and Petunia sighed again, wishing that she had never answered the door in the first place. "Or are you still so against magic that you wouldn't allow me to do this?"

"It's fine, if it will get you leaving me in peace quicker." She hoped that Minerva hadn't heard her, but from the look she received when she went back to the project at hand, she knew that her words hadn't been as quiet as she'd thought. A guilty flush spread across her face as she touched her hair and tried to regain her composure.

"That's all I ever wanted to do, Petunia. But my idea of peace and yours were always at odds."

Petunia turned her head to look at Minerva, and found the woman giving her a placid look, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. "I always did want to be like her, you know. Until it became much to easy to be extra normal. Something changed in me, something that I didn't want to change. Why didn't you want us to raise Harry?"

It was Minerva's turn to look guilty, and she watched the older woman focus on the coffee table, making a pot of hot chocolate and two teacups appear out of thin air. It smelled delicious, and Petunia drifted over to the sofa and delicately took a seat on the edge of it, pouring them each a cup before wrapping her long fingers around her cup, allowing the warmth to bleed into her skin. "I had been watching you, for Lily. She had contingency plans for everything, as if she knew that something would go wrong with their first choice. I saw exactly what you wanted anyone to see – that you were perfectly normal, that you worked hard to be regular and unassuming. And I may have allowed that outer visage to color how I viewed you instead of seeing the little girl who asked me so sweetly if she could go with her sister."

"I was never sweet," she spat out before taking a sip of her drink, needing that small act to provide some space between them.

"You were, Petunia. You might not remember that child, but I do." From the corner of her eye, she watched as Minerva tightened her fingers around the teacup, holding on so tightly that Petunia was afraid that it would shatter beneath the force. "That is why it is to my shame that I didn't look harder for her when I was scouting out your place for suitability."

"I buried all that with my parents." The words were soft, and Petunia found herself focusing on the sprig of mistletoe that was hanging in the window. "There was no place for that sentimentality in me any longer, not when we were in danger."

A low sigh slipped from Minerva's lips and Petunia looked back over at her, taking in the stiff set of her shoulders, the straightness of her spine. It was as if her words were too caustic, and she knew that it was her own fault for being too snippy, too prickly. "Things were beyond our control. War is hell."

"I know. I lost so many people in my life to a war that wasn't even mine." Tears began to pool in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to try and keep them from falling. Minerva's hand came to rest over her own, and Petunia turned her hand upwards so that she could clasp it tightly as she tried to regain some sense of equilibrium.

"The war has been over for a long time."

"Some battle scars never heal properly. Do they?" They met eyes, and she could see the truth in Minerva's eyes. "I can't go back and change things. I can't change present me. I'll always be like this, and maybe I deserve the scorn and contempt that Harry gave to me, but that doesn't make it hurt less. The war made him more loving, braver. It just destroyed the light in me. Now, if you don't mind, I have to try and put this blasted desk together, so that Serena can be happy with it."

"I can help you put it together."

"Not with magic."

"No, with honest labor. My father taught me the value of working with my hands. And it's with that work that we can sometimes exorcise the demons that won't leave us be."

The first tears began to slip down her face before she could stop them, and she stood hurriedly, making her way over to the jumbled mess that was currently occupying the floor in front of the tree. "I don't know why I agreed to an Ikea project. Vernon is no help, he gets too frustrated with the vague directions, and that means I have to figure this all out."

"Is the desk going to be in here?" Minerva asked kindly, and she shook her head. "Would you mind if I asked where you plan on putting it?"

"Upstairs, in her bedroom." Minerva arched an eyebrow, and Petunia shrugged a little. "We'll get it upstairs somehow."

"It would be easier to make it where it's going to be. And it would only take a small levitating spell to get it all up there."

Petunia wanted to shake her head violently, but something stopped her. Instead, she just shrugged and went over to the staircase, trying to ignore the slight electrical feel the air took on as Minerva approached and then followed her up the stairs. Once they were in Serena's bedroom, Petunia took a seat on the bed, curling one foot beneath her as she watched Minerva separate out the parts with another quick flick of her wand. "That's enough magic," she said lowly, setting the teacup on the bedside table as she slid off the bed and approached the pile of parts that had to be put together.

"All right, I was just seeing what you would let me get away with. Do you want to read the directions aloud, and we can get this in place in no time."

The optimism seemed a bit out of place, but Petunia knew that it was too late to back out now, not when she actually had someone who was willing to help her put the monstrosity together. It seemed like the addition of a second set of hands made the work go so much quicker, and it helped that besides her reading the directions, they didn't make any small talk. Petunia didn't know if she could make any small talk, if it came to that, since there was nothing that they had in common, but the warm silence settled her.

In no time at all, the desk was put together, and Minerva and she pushed it into place. "One more piece of magic?"

"What?" she asked shortly, trying not to sound bothered.

"A bow. Every present needs a bow."

Petunia hesitantly nodded, watching as a gorgeous bow of ribbon appeared around the desk, giving it the festive touch that it needed. "Thank you. I don't know why you came here today, but…thank you."

"There's another child on your street who will be entering Hogwarts next year. And since I knew that you had been moved here, for your protection, I thought…there are times to make amends. Christmas is good for that."

"Yes, it is," she replied softly as they made their way downstairs. "But some amends can never be made. Sometimes, you can't back down from the peak you've crawled up to. Pride makes your neck stiff." Minerva gave her a knowing look before reaching out and squeezing her shoulder gently. "If, when, you see my nephews and niece, tell them…"

Her voice trailed off, not certain of how to put into words what she wanted to say. It seemed as if Minerva understood, however, since she nodded and gave her another of those tight, small, smiles. "Happy Christmas, Petunia."

"Happy Christmas," she replied as she showed the woman out, watching her disappear before she reached the street. "Thank you." The words traveled over the air, and yet somehow, she felt like Minerva heard her words as a warm feeling filled her chest as she closed the door on her past, hoping that her future would be just a tad bit brighter.


End file.
